


third time's the charm

by greyskiesblack



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Toy Store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskiesblack/pseuds/greyskiesblack
Summary: The last thing Prompto expects when he finds a Mr Flopsy toy is adate, but that's exactly what he gets.





	third time's the charm

**Author's Note:**

> so my friend posted a screenshot of her sims 4 second-hand store and then three hours later this had happened. like magic or something ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> **EDIT:** the _very_ amazing kiwi drew some [ _beautiful_ fanart](https://flykiwifly.tumblr.com/post/165419429193/short-comic-based-on-a-scene-from-third-times) for this story and you should definitely go check it out ^^

It's a quiet day at Third Time. Well, alright. _Every_ day is quiet.

Prompto hums absentmindedly as he dusts off some of the toys on his favourite shelf. Well, alright. All the shelves are his favourites. But _this_ one is special. This one holds most of the toys that makes Prompto’s heart feel squeezed. Dolls who had once been missing eyes, until Prompto figured out the right kind of marble he could paint to match. Teddies with carefully sewn ears, noses, legs; their stuffing freshly replaced. Porcelain figures painstakingly glued back together with barely a trace that they’d ever been broken in the first place.

They were the kinds of toys he’d had when he was younger – worn away, beat up. Forgotten and unwanted, even when the only thing they need to be like new is a little love and care.

It’s a small shop, tucked away in a back corner of a back street. The cabinets and shelves are stuffed to bursting, clutter spilling out everywhere. Prompto _tries_ to keep it tidy, but there’s just so many toys that need a new home. A second chance. Sometimes a third. He can’t even fit any more shelves into the shop – he can barely squeeze through them now.

The bell above the door rings and Prompto jumps, dropping the duster onto the floor. Of _course_ he ends up kicking it by accident when he steps forward to retrieve it. Right under one of the cabinets.

“Hello?” A voice calls out from the door. “Anyone here?”

“I’m here!” Prompto calls back. He crouches down and stretches his fingers. No luck. “I’ll be there in a jiffy!”

He has to squirm onto the floor and shove his shoulder _right_ up against the cabinet to reach the duster. When he stands up he sneezes, three times in quick succession. Prompto rubs at his eyes with one hand and drops the duster onto the shelf with the other. Tissue. He _really_ needs a tissue.

“Here.” A gloved hand darts into his field of vision, waving a _very_ white handkerchief.

Prompto only takes it because there’s nothing in his pockets. “A-Are you sure?” He glances up towards the man and then kind of wishes he hadn’t. The guy - no, _man_ is gorgeous. Like, totally stepped out of a _magazine_ gorgeous.

The man nods. The movement makes his glasses slip slightly down his nose. “Please.”

Prompto turns his back and feels his cheeks heat up. He _needs_ to blow his nose, but now this fancy – _handsome_ man is going to _hear_ him. He clears his throat and blows his nose as quietly as possible.

It _totally_ still sounds like a garula trumpeting. Prompto wants the floor to open up and devour him. Or at least let him fall into the basement, where there aren’t any attractive men to listen to his _snotty nose_.

“Thanks,” Prompto mumbles, awkwardly turning around and balling the handkerchief up in his hand. “Um.” He glances between his hand and the man. It’s not like he can just give it _back_ , but it looks expensive.

The man chuckles softly and waves a hand. “You can keep it. Or wash it and return it if that would trouble you.”

Prompto nods eagerly at the mention of returning. “S-Sure! But um.” He clears his throat and shoves the handkerchief into his pocket. “How can I help you?” He tilts his head slightly. Someone dressed as nicely as this man doesn’t belong in a shop like Prompto’s.

“Well.” The man takes a step back towards the door. There’s more space there - _sort_ of. Prompto follows slowly. “I’m looking for a stuffed animal my friend used to have…”

Prompto nods, waiting for the man to continue.

“A rabbit - pale blue. Long floppy ears-”

“Oh!” Prompto claps his hands together and interrupts. “A Mr Flopsy!”

The man blinks and adjusts his glasses. “That _does_ sound familiar.”

Prompto nods. “Sure. I think I’ve got one…” He turns around and taps a finger to his chin. “Um. It might take me a minute to find it, though.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” The man says.

Prompto takes a few steps forward. There had _totally_ been a blue rabbit in that shelf… Or was it that _other_ shelf?

 

It takes him twenty minutes and a _teeny-tiny_ shelf mishap to find the rabbit. Nothing broke, thankfully. But the falling shelf _did_ release a cloud of dust that somehow managed to get into Prompto’s eyes. _And_ his mouth, which is almost worse.

 

“Sorry-” Prompto turns his head and coughs into his elbow, “-for making you wait.”

The man was lingering by the door, looking at his phone. “I don’t mind.” He smiles and puts the phone in his pocket as Prompto approaches.

“It’s this, right?” Prompto pulls the rabbit out from behind his back and grins.

The man’s eyes widen and a smile creeps over his face. “Yes, that’s… It almost looks like the one my friend owned.”

Prompto rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Y’think so?”

The man takes the rabbit from Prompto’s hand and turns it this way and that, inspecting it. “Yes, definitely. I distinctly recall the button eyes - one fell off and I had to sew it back on…”  The man trails off, clearly lost in his memories.

Prompto twists his fingers together behind his back and tries not to smile too much. The man looks so _happy_ , like he’s won the lottery. It makes Prompto’s chest feel fizzy and warm, every time.

The silence stretches for another moment before the man looks up. “Forgive me. I was distracted.”

Prompto shakes his head. “That’s okay.” He looks down at his scruffy boots. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’ve no idea.” The man steps closer. “How much is Mr… Flopsy, I think you said?”

Prompto shrugs and chews at his bottom lip. “Normally I just charge folks what they think is fair.” He glances up to see the man giving him a considering look. His face warms instantly. “W-Well, I own the shop, so it’s n-not like I have to _worry_ about paying rent or anything!” The words spill out in a rush before he can stop himself. Prompto covers his mouth with his hands and tries not to panic. He’s an _idiot_.

“That’s very generous of you.” The man smiles gently. “I’m sure people appreciate it.”

Prompto drops his hands and looks down at his boots again. “I guess,” he mumbles.

“Then, do you have a card reader?” The man asks.

Prompto nods. “Sure. Just let me get it out.”

He ducks behind the register and crouches. Hardly anyone pays by card, and the machine is dusty. It’s not _fair_. He dusts every day when he’s not repairing new toys. There shouldn’t even _be_ any dust. For a second Prompto stares into the blackness at the back of the cabinet and wonders if there’s some tiny dust-generating machine back there, puffing clouds of it into the air.

He shakes his head and stands up, wiping at the machine with the corner of his apron. “Sorry it’s dusty,” he mumbles as he sets it on the glass. He ducks back down to make sure it’s plugged in. Which it wasn’t.

“You run this place by yourself?” The man asks when Prompto stands back up again.

“Yep!” Prompto nods. “It was my mom’s. I used to help out before…” Prompto looks away and clears his throat. He’s _so not_ going to think about that and start crying in front of some stranger. “Anyway, it’s just me now.”

“That must be hard.” The man gestures towards the machine. “I think it’s done booting up.”

“Oh. Right.” Prompto blinks and shakes his head again. Fiddles with the machine. “Um, I don’t know how much to charge you.”

“May I?” The man reaches for the machine.

Prompto passes it over. It’s not like he’ll charge himself some tiny amount, right? Maybe the man will overpay and Prompto will have fifty dollars he can spend on new parts. He could use some new paintbrushes.

The man hums to himself as he keys in an amount. Prompto wants to snoop and see what he put in, but the man has his other hand around the screen, like he read Prompto’s mind and doesn’t want him to know.

Or he’s just careful. Which is way more likely than someone reading his mind.

Prompto fiddles with his apron strings as the man keys in his PIN. The machine whirrs slowly, printing out a receipt on paper that Prompto _probably_ should have changed at some point.

The man takes the receipt before Prompto can. “I’ll write my number on the back,” he says as he pulls a pen from his jacket pocket. “You can call me about the handkerchief.”

Prompto had _actually_ forgotten. “Right. Sure. Thanks.” He swallows. Is his face as red as it feels? That would be just his luck, turning into a freakin’ _lobster_ in front of the sexiest man he’s ever seen. Who is writing down his number in the nicest handwriting _ever_.

Prompto takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. He’s being ridiculous.

“Here you are.” The man slides the folded up paper towards Prompto. “Thank you very much.”

“Sure.” Prompto nods.

The man picks up the rabbit and gives it a faint smile. “Do you have a bag?”

“Oh!” Prompto smacks his forehead. “Sorry.” He ducks down and rummages around in a different cabinet. There’s a bunch of reusable cloth ones thrown in willy-nilly, but Prompto is _pretty sure_ he has one - there. He stands up and carefully puts the stuffed rabbit in the bag. Which _may_ be the same kind of emerald green as the man’s eyes. Maybe.

“Here you go!” Prompto holds the handle up for the man to take. Just like he would for _any_ customer, really.

The man’s fingers brush Prompto’s. “Thank you. I’ll see you again. Soon, I hope.” He smiles and takes the bag.

Prompto’s breath seems to follow the man as he leaves the store. Seriously, how is he so _gorgeous_?

 

It takes him a minute to remember the receipt. He unfolds it carefully. _Ignis_ is written across the top in elegant handwriting, followed by a number. Prompto swallows his bubbling nervousness and checks the other side.

“A _thousand dollars_?!” He yelps and drops the paper. Rubs at his eyes and checks it again.

The numbers don’t change.

Prompto scrambles for his phone, his fingers trembling as he dials the number.

 

The man - Ignis - answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Um, hi! It’s Prom - uh, from the toy store. I think you made a mistake when you entered your details.” Prompto snaps his mouth shut before he rambles any more.

“A mistake?” Ignis’ voice sounds _really_ intimate when it’s right in Prompto’s ear. Prompto swallows.

“Y-Yeah. Um, I think you meant to put a hundred, but you pressed the zero one too many times…” Prompto trails off.

Ignis chuckles softly. “I didn’t make a mistake.”

Prompto blinks a couple of times. “Sorry, what?” He must have misheard.

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Ignis repeats, carefully enunciating each word.

“Are you _kidding me_?!” Prompto whimper-shouts. “Um. Sorry.” He scrubs at his burning cheek with his free hand.

“You said your customers usually pay what they think is fair, didn’t you?”

Prompto scowls. “Well, yes, but-”

“That’s the price that I thought was fair.” Ignis says firmly. “And if you try to reverse the charges, I’ll be _very_ annoyed - Prom, was it?”

“Prompto,” Prompto says automatically, trying to process what Ignis just said. “But that’s-”

“I went to _six_ toy shops today,” Ignis interrupts softly. “None of them had what I was looking for, but all of them - even most expensive one by the palace - said that there was a tiny shop downtown that would have what I wanted.”

“They did?” Prompto chews at his bottom lip. “Really?”

“Yes, really. And they were right, weren’t they?” Ignis’ voice is soft.

Prompto clears his throat. “W-Well, I’m happy to help. And um, thank you. And um.” He clears his throat again. It’s like something is _stuck_ there. “I’ll return your handkerchief as soon as I can!”

Ignis huffs out a quiet breath. “There’s no rush, Prompto.”

Prompto’s spine tingles. Someone saying his name _should not_ have that kind of effect. “Um. Sure.”

“But if you’re in a hurry to return it…” Ignis trails off for a moment.

Prompto waits. He feels like he ought to be holding his breath. He _is_ holding his breath. Why isn’t he breathing?

“I’m free tomorrow night.” Ignis continues, unfairly unaware of Prompto’s respiratory struggles. “I can meet you at say, seven, by the subway station near your shop?”

Prompto swallows. “Sure.” His voice cracks. Prompto could just _die_. He swallows again. “Sure.”

“Then it’s a date. See you then.”

Ignis hangs up. Prompto slowly lowers his phone and stares at the screen.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he mumbles to himself. “Did he say _date_?”

 

 

The entire contents of Prompto’s wardrobe are spread out over his bed. And falling off the sides. And crumpled on the floor. He doesn’t have _a single thing_ to wear.

Okay. He has enough to wear. He even has enough to wear on a _date_ , even though that’s totally not what this is. It’s just he doesn’t have anything to wear on a date with someone like _Ignis_. Even when he put on his nicest outfit he didn’t come close to being good enough. He looked more like the person that would shine Ignis’ shoes. Not someone Ignis would go on a _date_ with.

Not that there’s anything wrong with shining shoes. Prompto groans and rubs at his forehead. And it’s not even a _date_.

He stares at his clothes and tries not to despair. He pulls his phone out and checks his card balance. The money from yesterday didn’t clear. If it _had_ , maybe he could go buy something. In the twenty minutes he has left before he has to leave to meet Ignis at the station. Yeah. Totally possible.

Prompto groans louder and tugs at his hair. He’s going to be _late_ and Ignis will be annoyed and _what even is his life_?!

He settles on his favourite shirt - it’s starting to wear around the hems, but it’s _soft_ and cuddly and the last time Prompto had worn it he’d gotten a free coffee from a cute barista. He tugs the long sleeves over his hands and slips his thumbs through the holes. He’s already in his newest jeans - they’re only a _little_ frayed around the knees.

At least he’s tidier than yesterday, Prompto considers as he squints at his reflection in the mirror. That will count for something, right?

 

Prompto’s ten minutes early and Ignis _still_ beat him to the station. He looks like he stepped out of one of the subway advertisements, leaning against the railing in his perfectly-fitting jacket.

Prompto considers turning back the way he came and running away.

Ignis looks up and catches Prompto’s gaze. He _smiles_.

Forget running away - Prompto can’t even _walk_. He stumbles forward on shaky legs.

“You look nice without all the dust,” Ignis says as Prompto gets closer.

Prompto swallows. “Um. Thanks. You too.” He lifts his hand to smack himself in the face and stops halfway. Awkwardly lowers it back down again. “Here’s your handkerchief.” He pulls it out of his pocket.

He’d washed it _twice_. By hand. After looking up how to wash expensive handkerchiefs on the internet.

Ignis takes it from him and smiles. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so clean.”

Prompto blushes and looks down. Their fingers had _totally_ touched. Like Ignis was doing it on purpose. Which he wouldn’t do. Because it’s not a date. “Sure.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?” Ignis asks as he tucks the handkerchief into his pocket.

Prompto shakes his head. His stomach is such a mess of knots he’s not even sure he _could_ eat. “Not yet.”

“I know an excellent place,” Ignis starts walking towards the entrance of the subway station. “If you’d like to…?”

Prompto follows behind and almost trips over his own feet. “S-Sure. It’s not um, a _really_ fancy place, is it?”

Ignis turns his head and smiles. He should have to _warn_ people before he does that. “Not in the least.”

 

The subway ride is _horrible_. It’s rush-hour, and Prompto ends up pressed up against Ignis by the door. Every time the train jerks they bump into each other. It’s a wonder Prompto’s head hasn’t exploded with how _red_ it is. He keeps his eyes on Ignis’ chest, determinedly not looking up. This is the _worst_. Ignis’ cologne makes Prompto want to bury his face in Ignis’ neck and never leave.

Definitely the worst subway ride _ever_.

 

It’s better once they’re outside. The night air is cool against Prompto’s skin. Ignis is quiet as they walk through the streetlamp-lit roads. Away from the crowds.

Prompto’s skin tingles. It’s getting _darker_. And _quieter_. Is Ignis planning on murdering him? Did he get all dressed up only to die?

“Here we are.” Ignis stops in front of a dimly-lit door. “Best curry in the city.”

“Curry?” Prompto lifts his head from studying the sign. “Really?”

“You’re a fan?” Ignis smiles. “Well then, after you.” He gestures towards the door.

Prompto feels awkward entering first. A man looks up from the bar and scowls at him.

Ignis enters and the bell jingles again. The man’s scowl relaxes into a smile.

“Ignis.” The man nods.

“Sojiro.” Ignis steps past Prompto and takes a seat in one of the empty booths. Well, they’re _all_ empty.

“The usual?” Sojiro sets down the glass he’d been wiping.

“Please. And the same for my friend.” Ignis glances towards Prompto. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Sure.” Prompto nods. He slides into the booth across from Ignis. “Um, what’s the usual?”

Ignis chuckles. “A curry and a coffee.”

Prompto makes a face before he can stop himself. “Really?”

“It’s a lot better than it sounds.” Ignis sets his phone face down on the table. “Trust me.”

“Alright.” Prompto nods.

The silence stretches for an awkward minute. Prompto tries to think of _anything_ to say and comes up with nothing. Every time he glances up at Ignis’ face their eyes meet, and it’s even _worse_ than the subway ride.

“So um.” Prompto clears his throat. “Was your friend happy?”

“My friend?” Ignis tilts his head slightly to the side. He could be in a television commercial, _seriously_.

“The Mr Flopsy.” Prompto says, spreading his fingers out on the table. “You said it was for a friend.”

“Ah.” Ignis nods. “It’s a birthday gift, and his birthday isn’t until next week.”

“Oh.” Prompto’s heart sinks into his stomach. No one drops _that_ much money on something for just a _friend_. He should have realised sooner. “I hope he likes it.”

“He ought to.” Ignis sighs softly. “I hope.”

Prompto fiddles with his shirt’s thumb-holes. “He must be pretty important to you.” He glances up, peeking through his fringe.

“I suppose.” Ignis smiles wryly. “Looking after him is my job.”

“Oh.” Prompto tilts his head slightly. “It is?”

Ignis nods but doesn’t elaborate. “And yours is restoring toys?”

Prompto nods. “Yeah.”

“Where do you find them?” Ignis leans forward slightly, elbows on the table.

“Here and there,” Prompto looks away. He’s not going to admit that sometimes he goes hunting around in the dump for them. Not to someone who wears _cufflinks_. “Garage sales and stuff.”

“Your shop didn’t seem very busy,” Ignis says slowly.

“Well, neither does yours. I mean this place. I mean-” Prompto cuts himself off with a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Ignis laughs. “Sojiro won’t mind. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t _like_ having customers.”

“Oh.” Prompto lowers his hand and laces his fingers together in his lap.

“But you do?” Ignis prompts softly.

“W-Well, yeah.” Prompto looks up and then back down. “People always get really happy when they come in looking for some old toy that no one’s even produced in the last ten, twenty years. Finding stuff for their kids that _they_ had as kids…” Prompto’s rambling. He takes a deep breath. “It’s nice to make them happy, you know?”

Ignis is smiling at him, resting his chin in his hand. “It must be very rewarding.”

Prompto nods. “Yeah. Definitely.”

The air is suddenly thick with the smell of curry. Prompto sits up and glances around. The owner - Sojiro - is bringing them their food.

“Here you are.” He sets a plate and a mug in front of each of them.

Prompto eyes the mug suspiciously. At least the curry smells _amazing_. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Ignis nods.

Sojiro grunts. “Enjoy.”

Prompto glances towards Ignis as he picks up his fork. The other man has already started eating.

 

The curry tastes even better than it smells. Prompto isn’t even sure something like that is truly possible. Maybe the laws of physics have been broken somehow. And the coffee - okay, it’s a little too bitter - but it’s _still_ good. Prompto’s so busy enjoying the food he doesn’t even ramble nervously to fill the silence. The laws of the universe are definitely broken.

 

Ignis pays for the meal before Prompto can stop him. Of _course_ he does, but Prompto doesn’t have to like it. He scowls a little as he opens the door. The night air has gone from cool to _cold_ , and Prompto shivers.

“I could have paid for my own dinner,” Prompto mutters as Ignis falls into step beside him.

“I know.” Ignis smiles. “But I asked you out, so I think it’s fair that I paid this time.”

Prompto stumbles. Ignis reaches out to steady him with a hand on Prompto’s arm.

“Are you okay?” Ignis’ brows are furrowed with concern.

“Um.” Prompto blinks a couple of times. Fiddles with his hair. Ignis’ hand is still on his forearm. “It’s just… You said…” He trails off. His face is probably brighter than the _sun_.

“Oh.” Ignis lets Prompto go and starts walking again. “I thought I made it clear that this was a date.”

“I thought… I didn’t think you _meant_ it.” Prompto looks down at the ground as he walks next to Ignis. Their arms keep bumping against each other.

“Why else would I have said ‘date?’” Ignis sounds amused.

Prompto huffs out a breath. “I don’t know,” he mutters. He crosses his arms over his chest. It’s a _little_ warmer. “Maybe you got confused?”

Ignis chuckles. “Unlikely. Are you cold?”

“A little,” Prompto admits. “But the station is pretty close, right?”

Ignis stops.

Prompto stops a second later and turns back. “Ignis?”

“Here.” Ignis slides his jacket off and holds it out. “If you want.”

Prompto _definitely_ wants. Ignis looks even better in just his dress shirt. It’s _tailored_. He’s wearing suspenders. Prompto feels a little dizzy. “W-Won’t you get cold?”

“I’ll be fine.” Ignis waves the jacket slightly. “Go on.”

Prompto takes it. It smells like curry and cologne and if Ignis wasn’t watching him, he would bury his face in it and inhale. Like some weirdo that sniffs people’s jackets. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides it on.

“You can return it next time,” Ignis says as they start walking again.

“Next time?” Prompto echoes.

“Well, it’s like your store’s name, isn’t it?” Ignis’ fingers brush against the back of Prompto’s hand.

“The store?” Prompto’s heart is pounding in his ears. And his face. And his throat.

Ignis’ fingers curl between Prompto’s. “Third time’s the charm, right?”

“R-Right.” Prompto’s voice cracks again. Ignis’ hand is warm. And soft. And _really_ nice to hold. Maybe if he walks a little slower he can keep holding it for longer. Even though his palms will _totally_ get sweaty and gross and Ignis will let him _go_.

 

They get to the station entirely too quickly. Ignis spends a moment looking at the schedules. He hasn’t let go of Prompto’s hand, and there are all these _people_ around. Prompto almost wants to wriggle his hand free.

“Your train will be here first.” Ignis says as he lowers his gaze. “I’ll see you off.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” Prompto says. He hadn’t even _looked._ Who cares about train times when there’s better things to stare at?

“I know.” Ignis smiles and squeezes Prompto’s hand.

 

The platform is half-empty. Ignis lingers by the escalators.

“I’ll have to find out when I’ve got some free time,” he says softly. He’s _totally_ staring at Prompto. It’s awful. “I don’t usually have much.”

“That’s okay,” Prompto mumbles. “I’m easy.” His eyes go wide as he realises. “I-I mean I can close the store and meet you when it’s convenient!” Maybe he should fling himself in front of the train.

Ignis smiles. “You don’t need to go to that much trouble.”

“It’s not.” Prompto insists. “Any trouble, I mean.”

Ignis leans slightly closer. “Are you sure?”

Prompto licks his lips. His mouth is suddenly _totally_ dry. “Yes?”

“Your train’s almost here.” Ignis is _definitely totally_ staring at him. “I suppose this is goodbye.”

Prompto nods and swallows. “It was fun,” he chokes out.

“Maybe I’ll _find_ some free time,” Ignis says softly. His face is _really_ close. His other hand lightly touches Prompto’s back. Runs down his spine.

Prompto bites his lip to stop himself from yelping. “That’d be. Good.” He nods jerkily. Tilts his head up and raises himself onto the balls of his feet. Ignis is _tall_.

It’s a brief kiss - the warning sound of the train goes off the second their lips meet - but it’s _still_ a kiss. A _good_ kiss. Ignis pulls away and smiles down at Prompto. “I think the saying is wrong.”

“The saying?” Prompto’s head feels like someone turned everything upside-down.

The train is rushing towards the station. Ignis squeezes Prompto’s hand. “The second time is _plenty_ charming.”

Prompto feels his face heat up. The train draws into the station and the doors whoosh open. “I’ll call you! Or I’ll text you. Because calling is weird. But um. Texting.” He speaks in a rush.

Ignis gently pushes him towards the doors. “I’ll text you back.”

“Good.” Prompto nods. “Okay. Then I guess. Bye?”

The train starts beeping with the ‘doors closing' chime. Prompto untangles their fingers and dashes into the car just in time.

Ignis waves as the train pulls away from the station. Prompto waves back, feeling warm and giddy and _totally_ impatient for next time.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, that's Sojiro and Leblanc from Persona 5, i couldn't stop myself ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
